by Alison Stone
“Ned,” she said, her voice cracking. The man she had testified against. The man who had beaten an Amish man to within an inch of his life.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, his expression now stoic.
Her heart thrummed in her ears and she swallowed around a too-tight throat. Could she beat him to the back door? She cut a sideways glance to Chewie, who seemed more interested in sniffing around the base of a tree than her predicament.
Ned lifted his hand toward the house. “I rang the doorbell and knocked, but no one answered. I saw your car in the driveway, so I thought I’d walk around.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rolled back on his heels.
Despite his nonthreatening manner, her instincts were to grip the long, metal tool tighter. He seemed to sense that and his gaze dropped to her white-knuckled fist.
“I assure you, you don’t need that,” he said in a deep, even tone, but something in his eyes gave her pause.
Becky eased her posture, trying not to show fear. Her thoughts raced and she swallowed hard. She stared back at him with what she hoped was a neutral stare. “How can I help you?”
“I suppose I could say you’ve helped enough.” He ran a hand over his face. “But that’s not why I’m here. I wanted to let you know that I’ve talked to Sheriff Landry.”
“I didn’t think anything was going on right now with your case.”
“It’s not about that. Well, it is, but not anything official right now. I needed to take responsibility for what I did.”
Becky blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
“I know I’m a hothead. I’ve always been a hothead. But I need to take responsibility. I can’t let you continue to pay for what I did.”
“Really?” she whispered, not sure if she had given voice to the single word.
“Your only crime was rolling up on the scene as my backup. You weren’t involved in the beating—” he tilted his head “—except for breaking it up.” A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes as if he had sensed the irony of his words.
Becky pressed her hand to her chest and the tip of the weeding tool tapped her chin. “Why? Why come forward now?”
Ned scratched his eyebrow and studied the ground for a moment before lifting his gaze and meeting hers. “I’ve destroyed my career and I’m feeling pretty down and out.” He cleared his throat as if he was touching on stuff that he didn’t usually discuss. “And my lawyer encouraged me to see a counselor regarding anger management.” He hitched a shoulder. “Thought it would look good when it came to the trial—that I was seeking counseling and truly sorry.”
“Are you?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I’m sorry I let it get to this, yeah.” He twisted his lips into a wry grin and ran his palm over the back of his neck. “In talking to the counselor, I realized it wasn’t fair to you. You seem like a good person. I’m going down, but I can’t take you with me.”
“Thank you.” Becky set her gardening tool on the shelf in the cabinet, then peeled off her gloves.
“I just came from the sheriff’s office and thought you’d like to know. I expect my lawyer won’t be happy about it.” He cleared his throat. “But I truly believe now, looking back, that you’ve saved me from facing more serious charges.” He shook his head as if reliving the event that had changed the course of both their lives. “I was so angry. I saw how close Lapp had come to hitting that kid crossing the road... I would have killed Elijah Lapp if you hadn’t intervened.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” she said. “What did the sheriff say?” Does this mean I’m getting my job back?
“He took my statement. Didn’t fill me in on his next steps. I suppose I won’t ever be privy to his plans.” He shrugged again and took a step backward as if ready to retreat.
“Do you want to come in for an iced tea?”
Before he had a chance to answer, her cell phone in her back pocket rang. Her first instinct was to ignore it, but something told her to answer it. “Can you hold on one second?” She pulled it out and glanced at the display and then Ned. “It’s a call coming from the sheriff’s department.”
“Take it,” Ned said. “Maybe it’s good news.”
“Hello.” Becky listened intently while the sheriff confirmed what Ned had told her. For some reason she didn’t feel the need to tell the sheriff that Ned was standing right in front of her.
Just when she thought the sheriff was finishing up, he said, “Amos King came in today, too.”
“He did?” Becky took a step back into the shade. The top of her hair had grown hot from the sun.
“Told me he witnessed the whole thing. Confirmed much of what Ned had said.”
Becky didn’t know what to say.
“I’m not sure who this lawyer you hired is, but he’s pulled a few rabbits out of the hat for you.”
Something about his comment made her bristle. The sheriff hadn’t exactly been forthcoming when it came to investigating the incidents following her suspension. From the start, his focus seemed to be on keeping his own reputation intact. She struggled to keep her tone even. “My lawyer had nothing to do with the two individuals who came forward.”
The sheriff didn’t say anything, so she continued, “Any news on my slashed tires or the shooting behind my house?” She felt Ned’s gaze on her, even with her back to him.
“Working on it.” Becky imagined him tapping the pads of his fingers together like he always seemed to do when he was giving her a speech in his office. “Maybe a witness will wander in and solve the case for me.” Becky didn’t miss the hint of derision in his tone.
Ned started to walk away and she held up her finger, indicating that he hold on a minute. Then into the phone, “When can I return to work?”
“I need a few days to fill out paperwork. I’m thinking Monday.”
“Monday would be great. See you then.” Becky ended the call, not giving him a chance to prolong her return to work any longer.
“Your suspension has been lifted?” Ned asked, a hint of relief in his voice.
“Yes. I go back Monday. Apparently, another witness came in today and confirmed that I only used the baton to pry you and Elijah apart.”
Ned plowed his hand through his unkempt hair. Now that Becky thought about it, he looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Or off the couch. A little part of her could relate. The world could get awfully small when you lost your job under these circumstances. She wondered where Ned would go from here.
“I’m glad to hear it.” He sounded sincere. “I’ll let you have at it.” He gestured with his chin toward the shed and her gardening tools.
Before he had a chance to walk away, she asked, “What now?”
“Ask for mercy. Probably have to find a new job.”
Becky opened her mouth to say sorry, then clamped it shut again. Apologizing couldn’t be her default answer. She had nothing to be sorry about. “Do you have a good support system at home?”
Ned laughed and his overall demeanor changed. “Now you’re sounding like my shrink.”
“I know what it’s like to be left out in the cold.”
“Well, my home life is a little messed up. I’ve never been much good on that front either. I’m afraid marriage number two is on the rocks.” He took a deep breath. “And I’m sure you know my oldest son. He’s a deputy.”
Becky nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“He’s turning into a hothead like me. You’d think I’d serve as a cautionary tale. He better learn to check his emotions before he ruins his career and any relationship he might have.”
Despite the mess this man had created for her, she felt compassion for him. Forgiveness. “Come in out of the heat. I have iced tea.”
Ned held up his hand. “No, thanks. I really should go.” He averted his gaze briefly, t
hen looked at her, a sadness in his eyes. “I hope things work out for you.”
“I hope things work out for you, too.”
Apparently, the Amish tenet of forgiveness hadn’t been something she had left behind when she jumped the fence.
* * *
“Are you ready to go back to work tomorrow?” Harrison lifted the glass of icy-cold lemonade to his lips and glanced over at Becky, her one leg folded under her in the rocking chair on her front porch. Chewie rested at her feet. In the front yard, a cloud of insects swirled over the grass, back lit by the purples and oranges of another gorgeous sunset.
The past few days since her name was cleared, he and Becky hadn’t talked much. He figured he didn’t have an excuse to visit. But now, with a return to work looming, he had taken the opportunity to stop by. To see how she was feeling.
Becky ran her hand up and down the arm of the chair. “I’m nervous. Feels almost like the first day.”
“You shouldn’t be nervous. You’re a good deputy.” He set the glass down on the table between them. “You stepped in and protected a young Amish man. You did what was right.”
Becky used her toe to rock back and forth. She looked over at Chewie, careful not to crunch his tail under the rockers. “People will always associate me with the beating. People tend to only remember what they want to remember.”
“You can’t control what other people think.”
She lifted an eyebrow as if to say, “Whatever.” She traced a line of grain in the wood on the arm of the chair with her index finger. “I wonder if they’ll ever find out who was harassing me. The sheriff claimed it would probably settle down now that a witness had come forward. He thinks it was someone trying to get back at me for hurting Elijah, but now that I’ve been cleared, they have no reason to come after me.” She tilted her head and ran her fingers through her long ponytail. “But the sheriff assures me they’re still investigating.”
“They won’t let someone get away with it.”
“No, I suppose not. I wish everything could be wrapped up so these reporters stop calling me. They’re like vultures.”
“Crimes among the Amish are big news.”
“Unfortunately.”
“It’ll die down.” Harrison reassured her.
Becky stifled a yawn and Harrison stood. “I should get going.”
“Sorry.” She bowed her head. “I didn’t mean to be rude by yawning.”
“I hope we can still be friends.”
Becky crossed her arms, but didn’t meet his gaze. She slowed her rocking. “Of course we can be friends.” She stressed the word friends a bit too heavily. She wasn’t interested in dating, so it didn’t come as a surprise. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me.” Pink blossomed in her cheeks.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable...” Harrison was never this tongue-tied. “I hadn’t made an effort to get to know people before now and I’m glad I took the time with you.” They locked gazes. “It’ll be nice to have a friendly face while I’m in Quail Hollow.”
“You plan on leaving soon?” Some emotion he couldn’t pinpoint flickered across her features.
“No, not soon, but I can’t avoid the demons of my past forever. I’ll have to go back to Buffalo. Clean out the house.” He took a deep breath. “Maybe even beg for my old job back.” He shrugged. “Find a new one, maybe? But I’m not in a hurry. I’d like to make sure whoever’s harassing you is punished.”
“I’d feel much better knowing they had someone in custody.” She stood and tugged at the hem of her T-shirt.
Harrison brushed the back of his hand across the smooth skin of her arm. “Remember you’re not alone.” He bent and planted a kiss on her forehead. Then he stepped back and the space between them was charged with electricity.
Something caught Chewie’s attention and he bolted from the porch. Becky darted in an attempt to catch the leash when a shot rang out. Instinctively, Harrison moved to protect Becky, pushing her down and toward the house for cover. A piercing pain radiated up his arm.
“In the house,” he yelled at her. “Get in the house.”
Her eyes grew wide with fear. As he shoved her toward the door, she pushed back, craning to see around him. “Chewie!”
Despite her resistance, Harrison opened the door and shoved her inside and slammed the door. “Stay away from the windows.”
“Chewie’s going to get lost.” Frantic, she reached for the door handle.
“No.” He lifted his hand to stop her. “We need to make sure it’s clear.” That was when he noticed blood running down his arm.
“Oh no...” All the color drained from Becky’s face and suddenly he felt nauseated himself. “You’ve been hit. Sit.” She pushed him against the wall and guided him to a seated position. “Stay put.” She raced to the kitchen and returned with her cell phone and a dish towel.
She handed him the towel. “Hold this against the wound.” Then she ran to the front of the house and peeked out the window. She glanced down at her phone and dialed. “This is Deputy Spoth. Shots have been fired at my residence.” She rattled off the address. “Deputy James has been hit. Send an ambulance. Be cautious. Active shooter.”
She ended the call, then ran back to Harrison. She took the dish towel from him and pressed it to his arm. “They could be hiding anywhere. There are too many trees around.” As she crouched in front of him, he found himself studying her bright, blue eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?”
“I think I’m okay.” A buzzing started in his ears and he immediately realized that he had spoken too soon.
Becky pulled the towel back from his arm and twisted her mouth.
“Not much for blood?” he asked, trying to make light of the situation.
“Um, no...” She grimaced. “You’ll need to go to the emergency room for sure. This isn’t a do-it-yourself wound. The ambulance should be here soon.”
The glass on the front window exploded. Instinctively, Harrison pushed to his feet and moved them both toward the center of the house. “Stay away from any windows.” He glanced around, anticipating his next move if the shooter tried to gain entry. “Where’s the gun I left you?”
* * *
Hunched over, Becky scrambled upstairs to retrieve the gun from the safe in her bedroom, careful to stay clear of the windows. The sheriff had returned her gun and badge on Friday in preparation for Monday. Holding the weapon at the ready, she positioned herself next to the broken window on the first level of the house. Making sure she didn’t create a target, she peeked out of a corner of the window, her gaze scanning the heavily shadowed yard. The gunman could be anywhere.
And Chewie was nowhere in sight. She prayed he was hunkered down behind a tree. But the silence unnerved her. She expected him to be barking, at the very least.
“You okay?” she hollered to Harrison, who was sitting against the wall in the dining room.
“I’ve been better,” he said, then muttered something she couldn’t quite make out. “See anything?”
“No. Nothing.” Her hand holding the gun felt sweaty. “The shooter could be hiding anywhere in the woods next to the house or across the street.” The exhaustion she had felt sitting on the porch had been replaced by a buzz of adrenaline. No way she’d sleep tonight. “Where are you, Chewie?” she whispered, growing more worried for her furry friend.
“He’ll show up,” Harrison reassured her.
Becky shot Harrison a quick glance, then went back to peering out a corner of the window. “I hate to think someone would hurt him.”
“Don’t think about that.”
“Hard not to. Chewie’s the only one who has been by my side this whole time.”
“What am I? Chopped liver?” Harrison joked, obviously trying to add levity to a tense situation.
She laughed, appreciating his efforts. Her muscles str
ained from staying hunched down by the window, careful to only peek out at the very bottom lower corner.
Just then a little fuzzy ball of fur emerged from the shadows and bounded up the porch steps. She fisted her hands to keep from jumping up and throwing the door open for him. She watched until she couldn’t see him any longer from her position on the floor. The next moment she heard him clawing at the door. When no one answered, he started yipping. The dog wouldn’t stop until she let him in.
“I have to let Chewie in.”
Becky locked gazes with Harrison before crawling past the window. He got up with a groan and held out his arm. “Let me.”
Her gaze dropped to the dish towel pressed to his wound. It was soaked with blood. Her stomach did a little flip-flop and she immediately felt queasy. There was a reason she wasn’t a doctor, besides the exorbitant cost of higher education. Suddenly she felt a little thoughtless that she had been more worried about Chewie than the man who took a bullet for her.
She studied Harrison’s face while Chewie scratched at the door. Even in the heavily shadowed room, she could see the color draining from his face. “You need to sit down.” She guided him against the wall and it scared her when he didn’t put up a fight as she eased him to a seated position.
He closed his eyes, seemingly resigned. “Don’t make yourself a target.”
“Not in my plans.” She pressed her palm to his clammy forehead before rushing to the front door. Crouching low and standing against the wall, she twisted the lock and opened the door just enough to allow Chewie to slip through. Becky slammed the door shut again and turned the lock.
Becky gave Chewie a quick once-over. After assuring herself he wasn’t injured, she hustled back over to Harrison, who now seemed disoriented and gray.
Becky cupped his cheek. “Ambulance is on its way. You’re going to be okay. Just hold on.” Her mouth went dry and she was too numb to feel anything.
And as if an answer to her prayer, she heard sirens in the distance. “You’re going to be okay,” she repeated. “Just hold on.”